Miss Her?

Don't ask when I miss her;
Ask when I don't.
I don't on November the 31st,
The only day I thought she would leave.
I don't on September the 31st,
The only day we didn't talk.

Neither do I on June the 31st,
The only day she didn't remember my birthday.
On May the 31st? Yes, I do,
May is the month of might-have-beens,
Too many of them.

April the 31st is all the more special;
It provides me with too many distractions,
Like too many spring sproutings.
Yes, these are the stories of the days,
Like seasons and cycles of joy.

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